


Never Hoped For More Affection

by Snow



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: John wearing high heels, M/M, Sherlock wearing high heels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-15
Updated: 2010-08-15
Packaged: 2017-10-11 02:43:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/107488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snow/pseuds/Snow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>When John returns to the flat, Sherlock is waiting for him.  He holds a pair of high heels in his hand.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Hoped For More Affection

cover by the absolutely wonderful kristin  


Sherlock is nowhere to be found when John wakes. John allows himself to think that Sherlock might still be sleeping until he discovers the note on the side of the refrigerator. It's rare enough to see Sherlock's actual handwriting that John lingers before reading the words. John can't help but wonder why he didn't send a text.

Sherlock's notes are just like his texts: short and abrupt. "Lestrade needed help with a case. Don't move the fingernail clippings. SH." There's no indication of what time the note was written.

John sighs and decides that he would rather not run the risk of finding the fingernail clippings in his milk.

Besides, Sherlock has credit with half the small-restaurant owners in London, and _he's_ never going to use it.

When John returns to the flat, Sherlock is waiting for him. He holds a pair of high heels in his hand.

"What are you going to do with those?" John asks.

"I'm going to observe your movements in them."

John is shaking his head before Sherlock finishes his sentence. "No. No. _Why?_"

"Because I can't determine whether or not a woman is lying unless I know whether she could have made the footprints in the mud that I saw."

John sighs. "And why can't you wear the high heels?"

"The tracks are unsteady enough to suggest that if they were high heels either the woman was wearing them for the first time or she was drunk. The two motions would be virtually indistinguishable."

John gives himself a second to process that before responding. "You've worn high heels?"

"On enough occasions that they don't interfere much with my balance any longer," Sherlock replies. He's never seen Sherlock near high heels before, but John can suddenly perfectly picture him in them. He would wear them with the same casual grace he does everything.

Even if Sherlock doesn't seem to be paying much attention to him, John hides the sudden flare of heat he feels as well as he can. "Are these your own shoes?"

"Don't be absurd," Sherlock says. "If they were, they wouldn't fit you very well. Besides, I needed something with more of a point than anything I have."

"Right," John says. He's always been more than slightly frightened at the idea of what Sherlock would keep in his bedroom, but now he's actually intrigued.

Sherlock must have read the acceptance in John's tone, because he smiles briefly and hands the shoes to John. John accepts them, bemused, and starts to toe off his own shoes. "Not yet," Sherlock corrects. "We can't really simulate the effect of mud without having actual mud. And Mrs. Hudson tends to frown on that sort of thing happening in our flat."

John stares. "You're having me go out in public in high heels."

"It would be better if you didn't put them on until we're there, actually."

"The point still stands," John mutters.

"I can promise to do my best to remember to catch you if you start to fall," Sherlock says, as if he honestly doesn't understand.

"That's so comforting." It's really not. "Where is this mud that you want me to fall in?"

It turns out to be even harder to walk in high heels than John had thought it would be. It doesn't take long for his embarrassment to turn to annoyance. "Maybe if I spent some time on the path, practising, this would go better. I doubt whoever it was actually fell in the mud, or you would have rather more to go on."

Sherlock nods. "Fine." He extends an arm, and John takes it with rather more enthusiasm than he would normally show. Given that the alternative is falling, John is sure that Sherlock will forgive him if he grasps a little too tightly. John isn't sure who he's trying to fool, himself or Sherlock. If it's the latter, he's doomed to failure; Sherlock felt the need to mention that he's married to his work the first day John spent with him.

The path is at least more solid, but John doesn't do any better on it. He can tell that Sherlock is growing exasperated with him. "Give me the shoes."

John doesn't question him, relieved enough to be able to take them off his feet. He does raise an eyebrow when Sherlock grabs the high heels from him and takes off his own shoes in favour of putting them on.

"Not remotely my size, but they will work," Sherlock mutters. "Now watch my feet."

John does his best to observe, but all he can think of is how squashed Sherlock's feet look. Besides, it doesn't look as if Sherlock is doing anything special, other than maintaining his balance somehow.

"Watch my feet, John, not my arse," Sherlock says after some time.

Startled, John's eyes dart to Sherlock's face, half-turned to look at John. Sherlock winks. "I know, you weren't." Now that Sherlock's brought attention to his arse, it's all John can do to keep from staring. From the lingering smirk on Sherlock's face he knows that.

"Think you have it now?" he asks eventually.

"I'm willing to give it another try."

This time actually does go better, as if watching Sherlock's grace has made a little of it rub off on John.

"Back to the mud we go," Sherlock declares with a little too much glee. "Can't have you improving too much."

This time John can feel the difference in difficulty. "Sherlock," he snaps out when he feels himself start to waver again. His right heel is stuck in the mud.

"Easy," Sherlock says, wrapping an arm around John's waist to stabilise him.

"She didn't have someone supporting her," John says when Sherlock proves reluctant to let go. John doesn't object as such, but every time Sherlock touches him John has a harder time reminding himself that Sherlock isn't interested except as a friend.

Sherlock doesn't move his arm. "No, but she is lighter than you are. Move in as straight line as you can."

John takes a few unsteady steps and pauses. "A couple more," Sherlock says.

On his second additional step John can feel his right shoe sinking too far in the mud, and he can feel his ankle start to twist when his foot fails to support the weight he was expecting it to. Sherlock's support keeps John from actually spraining it.

"I wouldn't want to be responsible for giving you an actual limp," Sherlock says.

"And that's appreciated. Are we done here?"

"You've done what I needed from you."

To John's surprise and gratitude, Sherlock waits until he's deposited John back on the solid path before dashing back to study the footprints John had left. "It wasn't her," he calls back to John. "Send a text to Lestrade telling him her story checks out."

"That was for an actual case?" John asks once he's sent the requested text and he and Sherlock are on their way back to the flat.

"Of course it was for an actual case, John. What did you think it was?"

John knows he's trapped. The easiest thing to do here is to tell the truth. "I thought it might have been you flirting."

"Oh, is that it?" Sherlock doesn't sound shocked, but John never thought he would be. He sounds more playful than John had expected, though, which is explained by his next words. "I was doing that too."

John feels like a goldfish who just learned the menacing shape outside his bowl is not a cat, but a tiger. He has to tread very carefully here. "You're married to your work."

Sherlock frowns, and John wants to go back in time and not have brought that up. "I suppose I did say that," he says eventually. "This is why I don't lie to spare people's feelings, it only complicates things. That and I forget having done it."

John is following Sherlock even less than usual. "You lied?"

"Of course I lied. You were concerned about having to fend off unwanted advances. It's not like I could say I wasn't attracted to you; that was obviously untrue."

"Sometimes you are far too clever for your own good," John says.

"Excuse me?"

"Those advances haven't been unwelcome for a while."

"Hmm."

John is expecting a kiss or at the very least another flirtatious wink. Instead Sherlock closes his eyes, deep in thought. John clears his throat and Sherlock's eyes snap open. "I have to adjust my plan of action," he announces and strides off, leaving John with a pair of muddy high heeled shoes and a bewildered look on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> I welcome and appreciate comments, including constructive criticism.


End file.
